


Candy

by RedLlamas



Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Gay, Gen, I did this out of spite, I use "perfect" and "practice" too often, M/M, Oh god, Smile, Teacher-Student Relationship, angry Marco, exasperated Hundred Eyes, thankfully I got their characters down, will add tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8240260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLlamas/pseuds/RedLlamas
Summary: Marco Polo will be taught the martial arts by Hundred Eyes.Marco Polo will learn perfection if it kills him.Thankfully, perfection is in his tastes.~~~For David <3 ;) ;) ;)





	1. Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> I did this out of spite for my friend David when he asked me if I've ever actually written any smut.  
> Well.

Marco didn't know what to expect. There he was, his instructor to be. He saw his back and saw that he had on a robe and a wisp of hair tied up high on his head.

He was surprised when his teacher spoke.

_You have questions._

"Only one. Am I a privileged guest or a prisoner in this hell?" He walked closer to him.

He chuckled, "A fiery one." Here, he turned around and started again, "No wonder the Khan caged you for his own personal amusement."

Marco did not like the sound of that, nor the phrasing he used. Maybe this _will_ be terrible, after all. He even bit into a pear, to show just how much of an asshole he was.

But,

"You're blind." The fact astounded him. His teacher had been looking towards the ground the entire time they had exchanged words.

"Not as blind as you, boy," and wow, did he look smug as fuck. And he was. He felt proud to have made the boy feel inferior, if only for a moment. Marco would have called him out if he hadn't acted quickly and knocked him onto the ground. He didn't have any time to react for his new teacher had commented, "No roots."

Marco quickly got up, his new teacher turning away from him. "You have spirit, Latin." He began to pace, "Of the Yin and the Yang, you have an abundance of Yang. But without Yin, the Yang dies on the battlefield." He had stopped, and seemingly stared at Marco, who hesitantly looked back.

"We are all prisoners here." His teacher began walking towards him again. "Prisoners and privileged guests. One and the same. If you are unable to protect yourself in the kingdom ... it is I ... who will be killed. Do you understand?"

Marco had backed a way slightly as the teacher got closer, but at his serious tone, stood firmly and looked downwards. He seemed to take that as a yes, since he answered with a, "Good. We begin with roots," and subsequently sent him tumbling down to the floor. Again.

~~~

"You have been conscripted into the court of Kublai Khan. For what? I do not know. I am Hundred Eyes. I am kept here to train the Khan's sons ... his nobles ... his pets. You shall be tutored in the Mongolian ways of the horse. You shall be tutored in the great arts of the East by those scholars and artisans loyal to Lord Kublai. Languages and letters. Hawking and archery. And in the end ... you may discover the answer to your question."

  


Over the course of days, weeks, Hundred Eyes trained Marco. Time and time again, Marco would fall at Hundred Eyes' feet. But time and time again, he would get back up to continue. Hundred Eyes would fix his form, block his attacks, and generally just kick his ass.

Marco sometimes thought Hundred Eyes was doing all of this just to get a kick out of it. And out of him. Once again, Marco had been kicked to the ground, and honestly, he's started to accept his fate and has grown attached to the floor. He thinks he has become rather familiarized with the floor.

Hundred Eyes, on the other hand. He's just training another pet, another stupid student he could be better off not knowing. All he knows is that Marco isn't really good for nothing. His form is terrible, he doesn't know how to plant his feet correctly, he falls every time he knocks him over — really, he's a real piece of work. Marco doesn't even know how to ride a _horse_ , a damn _horse_ , don't they have horses in Italy?

Marco will be taught calligraphy if it kills him. And he thinks it will. But at least the hawks and the archery is cool, though his archery instructor is very rough on his arms.

~~~

Once Marco's face landed swiftly upon the floor, Hundred Eyes sharply said, "Get up." Marco did, angrily, and Hundred Eyes pushed him to the floor once more. "Get up."

Marco got up again, and began to attack.

He tried. Hundred Eyes would block, lean back, and dodge. He kicked him in the leg.

"I did not ask to train you, Latin. There is no honor in this for me." As he talked, Marco circled him, but to no one's surprise, Hundred Eyes followed him. Marco attacked, but Hundred Eyes quickly made shit out of him and sent him to the floor. The bastard didn't even look at him.

"Nor did you ask to be left here by a man who would trade his own son like 2 pounds of spice..." Hundred Eyes knew he was being unnecessarily cruel, but it had to be done in order for Marco to focus and maybe get in one good kick.

His comment spurred him into action.

He felt the air move around Marco as he jumped and kicked at him. Hundred Eyes moved to the side and intercepted Marco's flying fists. He stopped him and sent him to the floor again.

Huh.

He didn't hear a hard thud like usual. Maybe Marco really _is_ getting better after all.

Marco got up. "... For the opportunity to open trade routs to the West."

Hundred Eyes procured a coin from seemingly nowhere, then flicked it upwards. Marco followed it, and saw it fall gently onto the ground near Hundred Eyes' feet.

"Go ahead, take it." Hell yeah Marco is going to take it. He got into position, and moved towards Hundred Eyes. As he tried to attack Hundred Eyes, then duck to get the coin, he stopped his arm and moved it upwards, then moved his other arm towards Marco's face. Marco leaned back as far as he could without losing his balance. Hundred Eyes brought his hands down to punch him in the chest, sending him landing on his back with Hundred Eyes poised as the perfect warrior he is.

"Let him go, Latin."

His perfection angered Marco, making him get up and swing at Hundred Eyes, who merely ducked and made a fool out of him.

"Let him go."

Hundred Eyes pushed with his shoulder and Marco slid across the floor. From his position, he saw Hundred Eyes crouch and touch the floor before him to get the coin back. He stood up, crossed his arms behind his back, and ordered him to get up again. But Marco couldn't. He was sore all over.

"If you wish to survive here, get up at once."

So he did. If he will be shown perfection, he will demonstrate practice. Marco defiantly stared at his eyes.

They were like amber.

A guard appeared at the door, said, "The foreigner has been summoned."

  


While Marco took part of pleasure, Hundred Eyes took part in enhancement.


	2. Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, school got in the way  
> Here are more snippets of Hundred Eyes and Marco, with Marco finally using his eyes

Marco had messed up. He had shot down the Prince's report, and now he was certain that Prince Jingim would kill him for sure. After the Khan had left the room, Marco hurried to his room to pick up his sack. He checked around the corner to see the guards — there they were, on their post, doing their job. A squad of mounted men came by, making Marco duck behind his corner again. Once the squad was gone, he ran towards the stable to retrieve his sword.

As he began to leave with his horse, he was stopped by, by Hundred Eyes.

There he was, standing before him, in the same robes he had on last time they saw each other.

Perfection under the flames of a torch seemed menacing and imposing.

"The sword you hid is weak." Marco looked back at his concealed sword, "Your water won't last you two days." Marco pulled out his sword and found it broken in half, "But the salt cakes were... delicious." Marco turned back to face Hundred Eyes and saw him smile. _Smiling_. Marco threw the shard of sword to the ground and turned back to his bag to check if the smiling bastard really did take his cakes and — oh, God, he _did_ , that asshole, that giant smiling fool.

(Although, he has to admit, it falls nicely on his features).

Marco grabbed his pony's reins, and simply stated, "I called Ariq a liar tonight."

"That was foolish. Were your words true?"

"Yes." Marco had almost gotten to the door.

"Run now, they will find you." Marco's hand was on the handle of the door,

But he stopped.

"Stay... I can train you to survive in whatever world you choose to make your home."

"This is not my home!"

"I understand."

Marco turned around now, asking, "Where did the Khan get you from?" Surely perfection was practice, some time ago.

"I said I can train you..." No answer. Fine. "... Not wallow in nostalgia with you."

Hundred Eyes stalked away. Marco couldn't help but notice his loose hair.

Perfection is tedious and dreary and ... Right in this case. Marco would not go this night.

Perhaps he can bring about more practice this way.

~~~

It seemed as if he was one being with the stick. One entity, an amalgam, a simple extension of his arm. Marco had but a sword in his own hand, a small red cloth attached to its end. The view before him was certainly more enticing than his own awkward hold.

Hundred Eyes struck, and slapped him on the cheek.

Holy shit. That stick is not something to joke about. (Maybe it is, just not where Hundred Eyes can hear him).

Hundred Eyes parried once, twice, each time block by Marco's sword. But third time's the charm, and Marco felt the ever-caressing touch of a stick being slammed into his face.

Marco finally managed to block three attempts at his life, but Hundred Eyes blindsided him by slapping his back and sending his sorry ass staggering forwards.

Once more, Hundred Eyes and Marco sparred, each successfully blocking the other, creating sparks of art in each hit. That is, until Hundred Eyes jabbed him in the exact position on his stomach to launch him away, falling and rolling on the ground.

Marco heavily breathed. Hundred Eyes spoke, "Why do you think the sword has a colored sash? To look pretty?"

Marco stared at him. Is he being serious right now. Are you kidding me.

(On the plus side, from this angle, his smile can make his heart go aflutter).

Marco stands up again, and goes to pick up the sword again. This time, he wraps the sash around his arm.

"He's advanced quickly to the broadsword." Marco looked up to see Prince Jingim himself approaching. "You schooled him well, Hundred Eyes. May I interrupt the student's training for a word?"

"You're the Prince. You may kill him, if that's your desire." Marco looked over at Hundred Eyes, hoping he didn't really mean that, but Jingim drew his sword and held it to his throat.

His sash fell to the floor.

He spoke, "Humiliate me in front of the court again... I will kill you." He removed the sword tip. Marco breathed again. Jingim redrew his sword, and left.

"You were right," Hundred Eyes said, "Ariq betrayed us."

~~~

Ariq and Kublai's armies were to meet.

Marco was positioned towards the front and right side of the Khan, Hundred Eyes on his own pony next to him. When they were in position, Hundred Eyes asked, "Tell me."

Marco shook his head. "All the way to the horizon. A sea of men and horses. Ready to break ashore."

Hundred Eyes turned to him, "The Khan has moved from his guard to the front." Marco sought the Khan, and saw him just where he said he would be.

"Yes."

All were in silence as they waited for the first sign of movement. The Khan moved forward, and removed his helmet to look up into the Blue Sky. He gave his right hand his helmet, and rode his horse to the valley.

"What's he doing now?"

"He is riding down. Alone."

Hundred Eyes felt the need to explain and assuage his student's confusion. "This is Mongol against Mongol. And only one can win. You better pray that it is our side. For if we lose, Cambulac will be burned to the ground, and we will be made into kindling."

Marco did not feel any better.

  


He saw. He heard.

A falcon cried overhead.


	3. Dedicated to Small Mars

Marco got into the initial stance. Hundred Eyes walked closer.

"In kung fu, we say, 'One hand lies...'" He attacked Marco, who blocked his arms. Hundred Eyes spread his arms out towards Marco's neck, then raised his arm while the other hit Marco on his abdomen. Marco doubled over in pain. "'... the other hand tells the truth.'"

Marco righted himself and said, "Try that again." He walked over to the other side of the mat. Hundred Eyes faced him, "If you, one day, make it back to the West, what will you tell men of this strange word, 'kung fu'? Will you tell them that it means to fight? Or will you say," he came closer, "Like a monk from Shaolin," he took a deep breath; Marco got into position again, "To summon the spirit of the crane and the tiger?"

Hundred Eyes commenced their spar once more, quickly attacking Marco, making him lean back. He twirled and got Marco off his rocker enough to hit his stomach. Marco skidded backwards before doubling over again.

"Kung fu." They both stood up. "It means, 'supreme skill from hard work.' A great poet has reached kung fu. The painter, the calligrapher... they can be said to have kung fu. Even the cook, the one who sweeps steps, or a masterful servant, can have kung fu. Practice. Preparation, endless repetition. Until your mind is weary, and your bones ache. Until you're too tired to sweat, too wasted to breathe."

Marco had been a bit distracted by his words, distracted by studying the way his mouth moved when speaking. He did not notice Hundred Eyes had inched closer, leading to his sudden fist in Marco's face, which he quickly leaned away from. Marco blocked his next volley of fists, until he had been so focused on keeping his arms away from his body that Hundred Eyes simply kicked him in the gut. Marco fell to the floor, but quickly (though painfully) got back up again.

"That is the way, the only way one acquires kung fu."

Marco initiated attack this time, attacking Hundred Eyes full frontal. But Hundred Eyes used all of his arms to block, and had stopped Marco's fist from colliding with his face. Marco glared at him, and ... noticed that his foot was over his dick.

Huh.

"Unfortunately, boy," Hundred Eyes began, removing his foot and stepping closer to Marco, "you have not." Hundred Eyes struck his chest, making him skid backwards.

~~~

Marco had been paying close attention to the Blue Princess. He saw her in the stables, saw her take a pony and ride off. He followed suit.

From his high position, he could see her place something at the base of a lonesome tree. She replaced the rocks and tied a blue ribbon on one of the tree limbs. After she rode away, another stranger came by, took the ribbon and took whatever it was that she had placed underneath the rocks. When the stranger collected all, they remounted and rode off into the city.

He followed suit.

Marco followed the stranger until he thought he lost them, when he saw a hooded figure enter a bar. He was sure it was the same person because he spotted blue in the saddle. He headed for the bar as well.

Inside he was met with the sight and smells one would expect to find in a sleazy bar. He almost got into a scuffle with a patron when who appeared to be in charge came between. Marco asked for the horseman of the gelding and was promptly told to, in essence, fuck himself.

Marco was then forcibly escorted out of the bar.

~~~

Hundred Eyes poured himself some wine. Marco was dressing himself.

Marco sighed, "Why would he summon me?"

"My suspicion?"

"Yes?"

"Is that you will discover the answer to your question rather soon." He smirked, though Marco could not see it. He took a sip of his wine.

Marco did not need to see him to know that he was smirking, that fool. Instead, he asked, "Perhaps you might lend your venerable insight to another query." He began tying his shirt.

"I would rather enjoy my wine."

"The Bayaut tribe. Who are they?"

"I grasp the spirit of your question. Tread carefully, Master Polo. Her parents, sibling, countrymen... They were slaughtered for refusing to bend to the Khan's will. The Blue Princess is the last of her clan."

"How did she survive?" Marco began putting on his outer robe.

"Her royal blood is valued. She is destined to be sold for political currency. Steer your eyes from her visage. She is beyond your reach."

"So I have been told," Marco responded glumly. He finished tying his clothes on and headed out to meet the Khan.

~~~

Marco had been forced to accompany and make part of Prince Jingim's suite to Kaidu's feast. He looked around, at the people, the food. He came across a group of people standing in a circle, a fighting match going on. He couldn't help but notice that one of the fighters was a woman, a very good fighter too.

He was struck by her beauty. And then by her form.

Apparently, she was struck by him too, for she looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes until Marco left, suddenly embarrassed.

  


Music filled the air. The fighters have now become dancers. Marco walked by them all, when he heard her.

"I have heard much of you." She came from behind a tent. "Marco ... Polo. What does that mean?"

Marco thought he could have a moment of peacocking, so he answered with, "The Great Explorer."

"No. I think it means ... "pale flower"," she responded.

"Flower?" He smiled.

"You look ..." here she smirked, "... delicate to the touch."

He walked closer to her, all the while bragging, "I have killed hundreds of men in battle."

They circled one another. "I didn't say the Pale Flower didn't have thorns." She checked him out.

"Sharper than a Mongolian's arrow."

She quirked her eyebrows, "Should I be afraid?"

"Only if you insult me."

"Then... I must watch my words."

Marco stopped circling her, and she began circling him.

This was quite a step-up from Hundred Eyes' torture.

"And the women you have conquered," she added, "Did they melt in your hands?"

"Like snow in the desert," Marco flaunted.

"Take me in your hands," she challenged.

Now that she said that, Marco didn't really like that idea. But he saw that she really meant it. He squared his shoulders and leaned in to kiss her ... only to have her shove him away with her hand.

(He can definitely remember having felt that not several hours beforehand. Seems it wasn't such a step-up, after all).

She laughed at him. "Not that! Do you wrestle in Venice?"

Oh. Ohh. "Of course."

"Show me."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Ohh. Mmm?" She caressed his face, and chuckled at his reaction.

Well. If she wants to wrestle, he'll wrestle. He slapped her hand and pushed her away. She laughed a bit, and got into her stance. She nodded at him to start their fight, and so he bodily shoved her to the ground. He went to help her back up, but she hit his hand and kicked his gut. She grabbed onto his hand, and flipped him over with her legs. He fell roughly to the ground. She scrambled to pin him down.

They roughhoused a bit, trying to get on top of each other. When she finally had him well pinned, she caressed his face once more before leaning down to kiss him. He fervently reciprocated, and hurriedly got his pants undone. As they kissed, she got on top of him properly, and began to move their hips together, blissfully synchronized.

Afterwards, he realized it was such a step-up, and yearned to reach it with, him.

  


The girl from before reentered the ring to the cheer of the crowd. Kaidu spoke of his perfect general and then talked aside with Ahmad about something or the other. Marco had eyes only for her.

It wasn't until Kaidu proclaimed, "It appears my daughter will never take a husband!" that his ears were not for her, as it seems. Marco turned confusedly at Byamba, asking, "Daughter?" with a hint of panic in this phrase. He shouldn't have hooked up with anyone here.

"She is a prized warrior..." Byamba elaborated, "...whose virginity is promised to any man who can defeat her." Marco uneasily nodded along. He should have stayed back at the palace, stupidly pining for someone he knows wouldn't get him flayed alive.

"Suitors abound, offering horses by the score for an opportunity to wrestle and win her," Kaidu finished. He looked proud of his Khutulun. "My herds have multiplied, but... I will find Khutulun her match. You should challenge her, Byamba." Both Byamba and Marco looked to him. "You are a powerful warrior."

"I am not worthy, Kaidu," Byamba said.

"Imagine if Khutulun had commanded our armies at Wuchang. A glorious victory she would have given our Lord." At that, Jingim stood up.

"We are one wrestler short, Prince. Care to test your skills?" Kaidu challenged, "Show us the... aggression in your blood?"

Marco knew that if Jingim were to fight and lose, it would be a great dishonor to him and his name forever. He also rationalized that if he fought for Jingim, then no one would suspect of him asking about Khutulun. So, with that in mind, he got up and declared, "I would be honored... Lord Kaidu."

Jingim looked offended that he would become his proxy, but Kaidu clapped his hands. At that, the crowd chanted as Marco made his way to the ring. He and the wrestler circled each other, trying to grab each other. After various good grips and slides, the other, bigger man had him in a headlock so fierce that Marc thought he'd pass out. Spots started swimming before his eyes faster than he could think of a plan, but Khutulun jumped in to save him by knocking the man down. Marco didn't know what this dirt had felt like on his face before, but he sure did now. Khutulun lifted him up and they shared a look while the crowd chanted.

Then she left.

On his way back to the palace, Marco realized that her smile didn't make him flutter like how Hundred Eye's did. Or, well, she did, but it didn't envelope his entire being.

~~~

"A ladle?"

Marco stood before the Khan, giving his account of his trip there. He continued, "Your cousin said it was made by the greatest artisan in India."

Khan looked down on the ladle. "From the ball sack of an elephant." He looked back up at Marco, weariness in his eyes.

Marco arched his eyebrows in reply. "Perhaps it is meant to be ornamental."

"And?" Kublai set the ladle down. "What were your thoughts on true Mongol culture? How was the airag?" He chuckled a bit, and so did Marco.

"It was enjoyable."

"Is that the only word you can conjure?"

Marco hesitated, lamely elaborating, "Highly enjoyable."

"Hmm." He got up with a grunt, and stepped down from his throne.

"How did they speak of me?"

"With respect. Befitting one of your magnitude." As Marco spoke, Kublai stepped closer.

"And my son? Did they afford him similar esteem?"

Marco gulped. "He was shown the honor due to the son of the Great Khan."

Khan scrutinized him. He stepped down.

"Describe for me what you saw, Latin... as you saw it."

Marco's mouth was dry.

"A lie... " the Khan began, "Can cost innocent lives." The Khan began to circle him. "A lie about how the House of Ögödei... treats the son of Kublai... endangers this entire Empire!" A pause. "Such lies should be punished." And with that, Kublai walked over to one of the guards and struck him with the ladle.

"No," Marco called out. Kublai struck the guard again. "Sire, no!" Marco yelled. But Kublai didn't hear him. He just kept striking the guard's head until it cracked and bled. Marco stood there, stupefied.

Kublai looked up at him. "Well, if I let him walk away, he will have his wine six nights from now and say, 'Khan was lied to by a lowly foreigner and gave that liar his leave.'" Kublai looked down at his lifeless body. "He shares your sin now. He is your scapegoat." Kublai dropped the ladle, and walked away, while Marco stood there, tears swelling in his eyes.

"Go, Latin. Sleep off the drink."

Marco left.

  


Marco rode his pony as hard as he could, screaming all the while. He slowed down until he saw the tree. The tree with the blue sash on it. He got down and got closer, seeing a cluster of rocks piled together. He began to take it away, rock by rock, until he got to a slab. He pondered it, wondering what it could be hiding.

He found that underneath it was a bag. He took an orange sash from it. He lifted the bag's flap. In it, he found a snake.

Or rather, the snake found _him_.

(It would occur to Marco later on that the sash lied, while the bag held the truth).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdfghjkl I'm sorry it's taken so long but here it is!! Will try to get the 4th out faster than the 3rd


End file.
